


Lannister-Level Consequences

by Elle_Song



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne's personal character growth, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Female Friendship, Jaime's got a good heart, Pregnancy Scares, Undecided Relationship(s), Unplanned Pregnancy, awkward beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Song/pseuds/Elle_Song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months ago, picturing herself in this situation would have felt ridiculous. It was so far beyond the stretches of her imagination. But here she was, Brienne Tarth, recent college graduate, aspiring businesswoman, and occasionally respectable daughter, three weeks late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lannister-Level Consequences

Six months ago, she would have been the first person to sympathize. Had one of her, admittedly few, friends been in the same situation, Brienne would’ve tsked and sighed and complained about the unfairness of the universe right along with them. Then she would’ve played the calm, rational one and offered options. 

Six months ago, picturing herself in this situation would have felt ridiculous. It was so far beyond the stretches of her imagination. But here she was, Brienne Tarth, recent college graduate, aspiring businesswoman, and occasionally respectable daughter, three weeks late. 

There were so many things that could’ve thrown off her internal body chemistry. All the airplane flights and the continent hopping she’d taken part in over the last month, for example. Or perhaps the change in diet. She had been eating almost solely rice, beans, and meat since graduation. Or maybe even the stress of her future career. She was scheduled to start training as a management assistant in 18 more days.

However, the other reason (the big one that makes her shove her head into a pillow and scream each night before bed) has a little more to do with what she did _before_ her vacation. Or rather, who. 

It had been ridiculous from the beginning – it was only fair that this was the utterly crushing conclusion. Twenty-two years and she’d barely even kissed a boy. Then one night of post-graduation partying and suddenly… she was late. Three weeks late.

“Sweetheart?” A big, booming voice calls from down the hall.

Brienne stands up abruptly from her desk, almost knocking over her little rolling chair in the process.

“Yes, Dad?” She yells back.

“Do you have the pictures from Bravos? Catelyn’s coming over tonight and she wants to see them!”

“Yeah, I’ll put them on a flash drive for you.”

“Thanks!”

Her father. Oh gods, what is she going to tell him? He's always so kind, so supportive. He loves her unconditionally, and she knows he’ll love her through this too. But it will change them. She won't be his little girl anymore.

She won't be anyone's little girl. She might even end up with a little girl of her own. 

Suddenly, she can't stand. Her knees are shaking and it's worse than all the middle school oral presentations combined. She falls back onto her bed with an unconsciously dramatic groan.

Shit. 

 

 --------------------- 

 

Brienne ends up leaving the house that evening because she's tired of sulking. And freaking out. Also, despite her best intentions, a night in isn't really an option. Her father has once again invited over her friend Sansa's mother, the comely widow he's been attempting to woo. Brienne's just glad that Catelyn is a) his age, b) seems genuinely interested, and c) treats Brienne kindly.

If they end up actually dating, she'll be completely supportive. But that doesn't mean Brienne wants to be the weird adult child loitering in the background while it happens. 

So for tonight she has to get out. For all their sakes. She thinks about seeing her friends, but what will she say to them? She's always been an abominable liar. And she can't disguise her feelings to save her own life.  

When she had a crush on Renly Baratheon freshman year, everybody knew. Everybody. That was actually part of how she became friends with Margaery and Sansa in the first place. Margaery, Sansa, and Brienne had all been in a psychology class together, which Margaery was acing, of course. They always sat near each other and decided to partner together for various projects. 

After hanging out and studying at the student union a few times, Margaery invited both girls over to her apartment to review. The apartment she shared with her brother Loras, and his boyfriend, Renly. It was a bit of an embarrassing revelation for Brienne, softened by the fact that Sansa had also been harboring a misplaced crush on the other half of the clearly unavailable couple. Margaery had easily seen through both of them, and decided it was her duty to clip both sets of budding feelings at the same time. At least she was gentle about it. Mostly.

Since then, Brienne has rarely tried to keep a secret from Sansa or Margaery, and when she has, she's never been successful. She's an open book. And if she told them about her little _situation_ then of course they'd ask about the guy. She's not even sure she can say his name without screaming. Or blushing. Or something else horribly embarrassing. The whole situation is still utterly mortifying. 

 She decides to go out on her own. 

 

\--------------

  

Brienne picks a cafe that she knows is open late at night. It's a hole-in-the-wall local place a few blocks removed from downtown and it doesn’t close until midnight. There are two bars across the street, affectionately called "The Twins", one pub-like and the other aimed at raucous dancing. They're pretty quiet at eight-thirty, but she knows they'll both get wilder later on.  

When she gets there, it's about as busy as she could expect for a Saturday night at what is admittedly a bit of a hipster hang out. She manages to find an outdoor table near the street. It's another sweet summer night with just the right amount of refreshing breeze. She orders a hot chocolate and a sandwich, then settles down to read the book she'd started back in Dorne. 

It’s two hours later and she’s in the last twenty pages when she hears a familiar voice breaking free of the din building across the street. 

She glances up reluctantly to see a tall, blond man laughing his way out of the pub besides the man she knows to be his much shorter younger brother. She closes her book immediately, forgetting to mark the page, and shoves it into her purse. Time to go. Now. 

She's half a block away, fifteen paces from her car, head down and walking fast, when she hears her name. 

"Brienne!" She freezes, a shock shooting down her spine. Almost made it. So close to avoiding all of this, putting it off again until it was absolutely necessary. She turns to see him taking a last few jogging steps towards her. His brother's nowhere in sight, but knowing Tyrion she's guessing he's taking this chance to slip back inside for a final round. 

Leaving her totally alone with Jaime Lannister.

His face is flushed, no doubt from the quick sprint well as the alcohol he's already consumed. It makes his green eyes sparkle. His hair is cut short again, sticking up at artful angles to complement strong cheekbones and a determined chin. 

She thinks of her own hair, barely long enough to fit into the sloppy ponytail she’d managed that afternoon. She's wearing a loose fitting tee and dark jeans, her standard who-cares attire, and she has to stop herself from fidgeting with it. He's wearing a polo shirt and slacks, like the rich jock he will always be, and while she hates that look on so many others, he's still quite easily the most attractive man she's ever seen. 

“Jaime,” she acknowledges.

They're on a mostly deserted part of the street, and when she moves back a few feet towards the entrance of an alley he gamely follows. She wishes she could run, but isn't willing to be that crazy. Just a few minutes. She can handle talking to him for a few minutes. And here they'll at least have privacy.   

“How long have you been back?” he asks, moving closer to her. He's smiling at her like she's his favorite person in the world, and it's disarmingly sincere. _The side effects of drink_ , she thinks. 

“Two weeks,” she replies, straightening her spine but not stepping away. He can stand in her face and be as stupidly handsome as he wants. She isn’t a blushing girl anymore, and she can hold her own against him. Probably.

“I’ve been waiting to hear from you,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around her waist. He presses a soft kiss to her neck. She lets out an involuntary shiver. Does he have to feel so damn good? Even after all of this?

 

_The music is loud at the Martell’s party. It's a night made for dancing and debauchery, the end of an era, and for once Brienne's feeling loose enough not to be phased by it. She scans the crowd for Sansa, but it’s hard to make her out amidst the strobe lights. She'd disappeared into the crowd with her former TA twenty minutes ago._

_“Brienne!” It’s Margaery Tyrell, appearing from behind her and throwing a companionable arm around her waist. “How are you, my dear? Need another coke and rum?”_

_Brienne rolls her eyes. “Why, Lady Margaery, are you trying to get me drunk?” She teases._

_“Me? Never!” Margaery says, face all pouty innocence. “He, however, might be.” She points one long elegant finger across the room at Jaime Lannister, who is holding a drink in his good hand and another in the crook of his elbow while navigating his way towards them. He catches Brienne’s eye and grins. All thoughts of Sansa fly away._

_Margaery squeezes her arm and without a word slips back into the crowd. Brienne wipes her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans._

 

“You’re drunk again, Jaime,” she states. She places her hands on his chest and pushes some space between them. “That was a one-time thing. You and I are done.”

He steps back obediently, arm dropping from her. “Why?” he questions, confusion mixing with lust in his face. “We were good together. Really good. We both enjoyed it, and it isn’t hurting anyone. Why not do it again? Why not do more?”

 

_She used to hate him, back when he was the smug asshole basketball star. He would harass her constantly, never liked how she tried out for the boys’ team because there wasn’t any girls’. That was freshman year. By sophomore year he’d been mugged at gunpoint and lost his right hand in the process. Ever since, he’s been more of a recovering asshole than had ever seemed possible. And now, two years later, they’re almost friends._

_She takes the extra glass._

_“To graduation,” she toasts._

_“May the real world not bite us in the ass,” he replies. They both laugh. And drink. And laugh._

_When he leans in to whisper right against her ear, his lips brushing the side of her face, she blames it on the music and the alcohol. When his arms slip around her waist, she blames it on the crowd. When he moves to lead her upstairs, she knows there’s nothing left to blame._

 

“It hurts me.” Her answer is more honest than she meant it to be. But she’s still surprised by the amount of pain and disbelief she sees on his face before he schools his features. He hesitates before replying. 

“You should have told me.” His voice sounds raw. Broken. He’s taking another step away from her, not touching now, not engaging.

She looks at him, realizing how that must sound to him, and regrets her words. He hadn’t meant to cause the fear she’s felt the past few weeks. And he can't know what she's been going through because she’s never told him.

She takes pity on him. “The experience itself wasn’t painful, Jaime. I wasn’t faking anything. I really did enjoy… that night.” The cloud in his features seems to dissipate a little. She watches his chest rise and fall with a steadying breath.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asks.

_I think I might be pregnant._ She can’t tell him. She just can’t. Brienne blinks, stepping back –

 

_They're upstairs in one of the spare rooms and she’s pulling off her shirt now, the alcohol making her matter-of-fact._

_“Don’t think you’re doing me any favors, Lannister,” she quips._

_He laughs. “I doing you favors? My gods, do you know how long I’ve imagined this? I’ve wanted you since junior year, Tarth. You’re the one humoring me.”_

_She rolls her eyes. She doesn’t believe him. He's rich, smart, and handsome. He could have any girl he liked. Why pine after her?_

_He scans her up and down, taking in her silk underwear-clad body (thank you, Sansa), and smiles the most appreciative smile she’s ever received. Even if he hasn't wanted her for ages, as he claims, he wants her now. And gods does she want him._

 

He isn’t smiling anymore. He’s frowning at her, hand still partially outstretched. His eyes never leave her face. 

Something's wrong and he knows it. He's not exactly her best friend, but she's never been able to keep a secret from him either. 

She was wrong. She can’t handle a few minutes alone with him. She’s already screwed it all up. This should have been a chance to deflect, to laugh off any invitations. To say she’ll be busy for a while and they’ll talk later. Keep him at arms length until she knows for certain. But she couldn’t even do that. And now she has to tell him. She can feel the confession rising up her throat like lava through a volcano and it’s only a matter of time before she erupts.

 

_He removes his own shirt easily, pulling it up and off by the back collar before tossing it across the room. Pants come next, and it’s a quick process. He leaves his underwear on too, but it's not doing much to obscure the view. He's gorgeous, as she knew he would be, all toned and tight with the same athletic build as when they'd first met on the court. Any girl discouraged by his missing hand would have to be certifiably crazy._

_When he’s done they’re still a few paces apart. He steps forward slowly and she moves to meet him. There’s six inches separating them when he looks her in the eye, verifying her intention. She grins, leaning towards him._

_Everything speeds up when their lips meet. Suddenly his good hand is cupping her face and she’s scrabbling to find purchase on his back as their hips rub against each other. She pulls him closer, fingers digging into hard muscle._

_He lets out a moan as she catches his earlobe in her teeth. She's never tried this before but she's not unaware of the process. She knows he'll be understanding that it's her first time, go slow when she needs to and fast when she's ready. He's not the man he once was. Now he appreciates teamwork._

_She sucks at his neck and he firmly grabs her ass, the two of them moving sloppily together towards the bed._

 

“What is it?” he demands. “Just tell me, Brienne. Maybe I can fix it.” 

She can feel her lip quivering and she knows she’s about two minutes away from tears. He sounds so sincere and he smells exactly like he did that night, wood smoke and citrus. She wants to reach out, wants to press a hand against that cheek.

He must know that she’s wavering, because what he says next nearly topples her over.

“I know what you must think about me. We’ve been… friends, teammates, for a while. I know what my reputation is. But I do not hook up. Ever. I’ve been with exactly two girls; my steady girlfriend all through high school, and you.”

She remembers the other girl, a haughty little blonde thing who'd broken up with him after the mugging. She'd made it very clear she didn't want him if he wasn't a star. Brienne had assumed he'd had a string of lovers since then. Apparently not. 

He’s looking at her with his soft green eyes, a lock of gold-spun hair falling into his face like a damned cartoon prince, and she can feel herself falling. 

“I want this to be something, Brienne. I never wanted it to be just one steamy night. Which it was, don’t get me wrong. But I want a thousand more. So date me. Please. I didn't ask you out the way I should have, the way I meant to, that first night. Let me do it better this time. ”

 

_When she wakes up in the early hours of the morning, Brienne slides out of bed and into her abandoned clothes. She looks down at the sleeping man. He looks… soft. Comfortable. Relaxed and content. Or maybe she's just projecting. She smiles._

_Years of waiting, of abstaining, of trying to find the right partner. Jaime may not be her boyfriend or husband or soul mate, but he made her feel special and he was damn good in bed. She doesn't regret what they did now, and she doesn't ever plan to._

_She grabs a piece of paper from a writing desk nearby and scribbles down a note:_

****

**_J –_ **

****

**_Have to leave, plane to catch. I’ll be back in a month. Thank you._ **

****

**_– B_ **

_It’s hardly romantic. Hells, it’s not much more than civil. But she doesn’t know what else she can say. “Thanks for the mind-blowing first time, call me”? Not exactly her style. Besides, she'll see him again._

 

"Jaime," she tries again, her voice cracking in an unfortunate way, "I really can't. You don't know what it's been like this past month." The confusion, the fear, the doubt, the reality that she might have to make one of the biggest decisions of her life. 

"I know what it's been like for me," he counters, shoving his hand in his pocket. "Tell me what it's been like for you. I want to know. At least talk to me about it before you reject me."

She owes him this, she knows she does. If he had hurt her or offended her, if he'd pushed her or taken her for granted, she wouldn't owe him anything. But she'd been a willing partner in all of it. And apparently she meant something to him. Maybe in a big way, since she'd never heard him wax poetic about anything like that in the past four years. 

 She can't bring herself to come right out and say it, so she starts at the beginning. 

"I was traveling. With my father." He nods. He knows this, she knows he does. It's the rest that's turned completely upside down. 

"We went to five different countries. We'd been planning that trip for years, our big college graduation celebration." She can't think about her father now, not when she knows she might be turning his life upside down.  He's been everything to her - father, mother, and friend - for so long. It's so far for this ripple to spread.

"It was amazing. I've never seen so many gorgeous places; never really left home before to be honest.” This part is what she’s told everyone since she came back. The next part she’s barely admitted to herself. “Yet every day you were in the back of my mind. I tried to push you out. I really did. But if it wasn't your face, it was your laugh, and if it wasn't your laugh it was your abs... You followed me around the world."

His face relaxes as she speaks. Honesty has always been her most damning virtue. Even if that wild night ends up being the biggest unplanned event of her life, he deserves to know his feelings are reciprocated. On some level, at least. She honestly hasn't dwelled much on that part much the past three weeks. 

"The problem is I'm late." He doesn't understand at first. She watches the confusion pass over his face as he debates the varied meanings of the word. She can tell by the way his eyebrows fly up his forehead when he realizes what, exactly, she must mean. 

"You're late." He repeats dumbly. At another time, the fact that she'd startled the unflappable Jaime Lannister might have been quite a prize. It figures that it only happens now, when she is so far from able to appreciate it. 

"You're... you might... I mean, have you seen a doctor?" He breathes. He's turning pale now. Almost the exact same color she had when she'd realized, actually. Something else they had in common. 

"No." She admits. "I haven't actually said it out loud before. It's only been three weeks so I really don't know but this has never happened to me and you wanted to know why I seem reluctant.  And why I haven't called. So. Now you know." She's stepping away, backing towards the street and her car and the safety of her favorite scream-into pillow.   

"It was fun, I enjoyed myself immensely, fantasizing about our heartfelt reunion was great, but I can't even consider dating you at the moment. Sorry, my brain is entirely booked until this," she gestures vaguely at her own body, "resolves itself. I'll talk to you later, Jaime. Please don't tell anyone. I have no idea what I'm going to do."

She makes a break for it while he's still too stunned to react to her monologue. The leather of her car seat feels cold to the touch and the slam of the car door behind her is like slicing a knife through a taut thread. 

He knows. He knows he knows he knows he knows. What was she thinking? Shit. 

 

\-----------

 

Brienne doesn't hear from Jaime for another week. When she does, it's because he's ringing her doorbell. She pulls the door open without looking who it is first so it serves her right to have to immediately confront an ex. Technically they've never dated so he's not an ex-boyfriend, but he's definitely an ex-something. 

He's wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. The casual attire looks out of place on Jaime Lannister, the man of infinite collared shirts and haphazardly buttoned button downs, but it's also the only logical response to the heat. The air hangs heavy around them, full of the sound of cicadas, and Brienne finds herself irrationally longing to go for a swim. She's pretty sure Jaime won't agree to come back in an hour after she's indulged. 

"Brienne," he exhales, eyes darting over her. She steps outside, pulling the door closed. Her father's upstairs, and she doesn't want to explain why Jaime Lannister is at their house right now. As far as he knows, they're still pretty much "frenemies". She's not sure what exactly they are now instead, but she would never have slept with him if he'd still been the man he was a year ago. 

"Yes?" It's not a polite response, but she's honestly shocked to see him. A week with no contact, and now this. She'd been wondering if she'd scared him away for good. 

 His arms hang restlessly at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling. "I've... been thinking. About what you said. A lot. And this is bullshit."

 He stands up straighter and looks her in the eye and she gets why he's here now. She left last time without letting him reply. This is his response to her horrible monologue. She blushes a little just thinking about what she put him through and vows to shut up and let him get it out now. It's his turn and she won't balk or interrupt. Or cry. Stupid hormones. 

But something in her face must show how nervous she is because he quickly clarifies. 

"I don't mean you. I mean the whole situation. We were careful. We tried to protect ourselves. And it didn't work. Now.... well, we might have to change our lives. It's horrifying, I know. But I'm here to tell you that I'll do anything. Whatever you want from me. This," he gestures just as vaguely at her body as she did last they met, "is entirely your choice. If you don't want to, don't. If you want to, do. If you want to give it up, I'll make sure we find a good family. If you don't, I will try my honest best to... create that family."

She gapes at him. No way. No. Way. 

 "I think I love you," he admits. "I really do. And I know that that's the tiniest river sliding into the gigantic ocean of your life right now, but I want to love you. If you'll let me."

He looks so genuine, with the tiniest hint of Lannister charm twinkling in his eyes. A man telling a woman she can trust him. That he still wants her. What could she possibly say to that?

 "It's not happening to us," she blurts. He raises an eyebrow. 

 "I mean, I bled. This morning. Crisis averted. This is why I really didn't mean to tell you last week," she plows on, "because I didn't want to make you worry until I knew for sure. It was nothing after all. I was going to call you later today to let you off the hook, I swear --"

He cuts her off by stepping in, hand raised, to cup the side of her face. She freezes, and as soon as her lips stop moving he closes the gap until they're kissing. It burns with all the fire she remembers and she quickly wraps her arms around him, bringing their bodies closer. She fights the overwhelming urge to grab on to his perfect ass. 

When they break apart she makes no attempt to open her arms, resting her forehead against his instead. He lets out an approving murmur.

"Don't you get it yet? I don't want off the hook, Brienne. I want you to reel me in and keep me." 

"I thought you would be angry," she says, fingers digging into his shirt. "Mad that I'd led you on. Or lied."

"But you didn't. All you did was tell me the truth. You don't have control over that part of your body. You couldn't have known what was happening. You were scared, and alone, and trying to keep this terrifying secret. And you still told me the truth."

"Overly honest," she supplies. 

"Unfailingly brave," he counters, pressing their lips together again. They meet enthusiastically. 

Minutes later they pull apart, dazed and a little breathless. They’re still standing on her front porch, and a fleeting thought passes through her that she doesn’t want this to be the last time they meet like this. She wants to do this again, wants him to kiss her on this very spot as he’s dropping her off for the night a hundred times over. She really, honestly wants to be Jaime Lannister’s girlfriend.

 "Do you want to get dinner sometime?" she asks. 

He steps back to look at her, biting his lip for a moment before letting out an involuntary laugh. 

"I'll pick you up tomorrow night at eight," he says through a grin. 

 She rolls her eyes. "I have a car and am perfectly capable of driving." 

"I know."

"I'm the one who asked you out! Doesn't that mean I get to pick where we go?"

"Sorry," he says, tone implying he's anything but, "I'm hijacking your date. I've been trying to ask you out for months. You can have your turn next time."

It's been a while since they bantered like this, but she remembers how it goes. It never felt so much like flirting before, and she wonders how long that's been his intent. "Sometimes I forget you're so pig-headed."

"Lannister," he says by way of explanation. 

"That," she says, leaning in for another peck, "I could never forget."

When he backs away towards his little red sports car waiting at the curb, there's a funny look in his eye. Hunger, she thinks. And a promise. 

 "Tomorrow. Eight o'clock," she yells after him in lieu of goodbye. 

 "Wild dragons couldn't keep me away," he calls back. 

She walks inside on autopilot, stopping to lean against the door after she's locked it. She’s aware of the horrible cliché she can feel herself becoming, but can't bring herself to care. She closes her eyes and smiles wider than she thought she could. A real date. With Jaime Lannister. A man who claims he's falling in love with her. She had no idea she could want something so much. 

"Brienne?" A voice calls from down the hall. "Who was that?"

Oh. Right. Shit. 

"Dad?" She calls back, walking towards him with an irrepressible skip in her step. "We should probably talk."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone was so nice and inviting after I wrote "The Truth About Lace" that I've been telling myself I'd finally finish and share another J/B fic for the past... six months? So, here it finally is! It's not quite the light-hearted smut that my last one was, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you liked reading it.
> 
> XOXO,  
> Elle
> 
> P.S. Thank you Starmagnitudesix for being my beta and all the encouragement ;)


End file.
